The 18th Parallel and Mr Bean

Almost the number of multiple trails collectively called the Ho Chi Minh Trail, this parallel being a natural boundary used in colonial days to distinguish between North and South Viet Nam. The next leg was to return across it.

Dong Ha, a big city, as nothing much going for it in itself other than Mr Binh (Bean). With good English, he's a tour guide and was hustling me gently. Met him several times including at the tunnels with a Canadian 'victim'. It was Mr Binh who advised me not to take the old trail road from Khe Sanh back north, difficult and dangerous he said. It was with reluctance I followed his advice after those mechanical problems. He appeared to say bye at the gas station.

Where ever you go and what ever you do, the war pops up. The father of Mr Vu(Rain), owner of the internet cafe I used, worked with the CIA. Mr Vu, a graphic designer, had to go to Korea before finally returning.

So up to Dong Hoi, a real easy but boring ride on Highway No1, a rapidly expanding river come seaside fishing resort town. Lots of boats with bamboo woven coracle tenders made watertight by a thick coating of tar on each side, powered by a single paddle. Baked sea fish and a couple of local Huda beers by the breezey river mouth made for an easy day and a good night's sleep.

Off to Phong Nga, the vast caves used by the North Vietnamese in the war as a hospital and a logistics base to send supplies down the Trail. The caves are now a UNESCO World Heritage site presumably for their natural beauty as apposed to the representation of determination shown by the north Vietnamese . Arriving too late for the full tour I found a nicely hosted guest house in Son Trach who kindly gave me, and you, this gratis internet use and blog.

Washington DC Riders Amok in Vinh Moc Tunnels

Having ridden down from Hanoi, these guys, Mark, Paul, Roger, were the first Americans I'd met in Viet Nam, on real bikes. They caught the point of Project Pineapple easily and filmed a short explanation of what it was about. They now just have to knock on their neighbour's door in the White House and deliver the message.

Piggy backing their guide, I stooped painfully to pass through one of the easier tunnels, I'm 1.94m. Water well, washroom, family room, all was catered for underground. Getting cramp in forgotten muscles, I popped out for fresh air and a stretch taking an access track up past the erroding shoreline where I met Miss Hue. Her dad was born in the tunnels in 1967, one of 17. She latched on to me to practice her English as she wants to become a guide after studying in Saigon as she called it. Escorting me back to the museum entrance, I felt privilaged to have met part of the real life history of these remarkable subterranean dwellings.

Khe Sanh, Bloody Great Battle

So why should I be going to Khe Sanh? Well, it was 19th March 2003 when working in Savanakhet Province, Laos, walking 120 kilometers to remote villages in Nong District to determine water well site when I heard on my short wave radio that America had dropped the first bombs on Iraq, Cluster Bombs. Standing in the midst of the terrible destruction of 40 years earlier among these simple hill farmers, I was shell shocked. How could any sane, civilised society be doing this again? Modern business studies and technical reporting expound about 'Lessons Learned'. Huh!

Khe Sanh was a bloody great battle to which the Americans dedicated the majority of its forces and planning, not being aware it was but a red herring, Red Haranguing even, by the North Vietnamese prior to the Tet offensive. So Nong District being but a long range shell away across the border received a pounding. It is on the Ho Chi Minh Trail and nearby the strategic pass from Khe Sanh, Vietnam, through to Laos. It was carpet bombed with millions and millions of Cluster Bombs, or the more sedate term, bombies. Whatever you wish to call them, they are still there waiting to kill for the next 3 or 4 hundred years unless we can convince our governments to stop using them.

For all you historians there is much information on all this, Khe Sanh Combat Base, Camp Carroll, the Rockpile, Dakrong Bridge, read all about it elsewhere.

Basing myself in comforable Dong Ha for a couple of days, I set off for Khe Sanh minus the saddle bags, tank bag and backpack. The good road to a main border crossing wound its way up through the hills. Light weighted at last, the Minsk with it's new clutch and chain whizzed up the road only occassionally changing down to third gear as apposed to second and occassionally first when fully laden. Passing through the town where a huge memorial statue stands dominantly, I rode on to the border town of Lao Bao. Sat by the lake, I drank a freshly squeezed cane sugar iced drink contemplating how the current tranquility must have been quite different in those historic days past.

But the Blood Bath was then. Now it's a Business Bath. Unbelievable. Huge super stores in there myriad constructed for cross border trading, seemingly for the future as they didn't seem too busy just then. The money shows, however, with construction of large swanky houses all over the place.

I had to come to the place that caused Nong District, just across the border, and other nearby parts to be the most heavily bombed areas of Laos, ney the world, devasted also by agent orange. Not much to see superficially, wonderful nature and industrious Vietnamese have transformed the ravages of war into a beautiful cultivated landscape amongst an inspiring mountainous setting. But ask the locals and that superficial serenity soon fades to the dark, vivid memories firmly implanted in their minds.

Hitting the saddle, it was a joy to be motorbiking again, sweeping down the mountains leaning hard into open S-bends. Ever vigilant on the 'blinds' for 10 wheeled trucks that are quite likely to be coming up on your side of the road. An acquaintance was taken out by such a bus in Sumatra several years ago. Or water buffalo sauntering down the middle with their fresh steaming dumps a further hazard which will send you through the bamboo crash bars should you catch one.

Que sera Khe Sanh.

Rider of the Storm

Riding around in wide circles measured in kilometers, eventually by trial and error I get back on the Trail. A map with new names while old names prevail adds to confusion, posting is poor also, language difficult. After a couple of days and thinking all is well again, just north of Huong Khe, the clutch drive chain breaks. By good fortune, 50 meters up the road is a mechanic, Duc. He strips down the Minsk clutch casing which is holed by the broken chain to reveal the front cog in two pieces. No problem, an hour and a half later he returns with replacement parts. But Duc is not a perfectionist and it takes another 2 hours to lever and hammer the chain into place. After overcharging by a great deal, I do my first night riding into the town of Huong Khe. Minsk repaired but me broke, next day I search for a money changer which I find nearly 2 hours later.

Continuing down the road, I'm not happy with the sound from the chain so keep an easy pace. Fuel stopping in a little village, Trook, I kickstart and c-r-r-unch. Oh no, the chain again. Where is the nearest Minsk mechanic? Literally across the street. With great ease of a true professional, Toan whips off the casing, goes to the shelf and pulls down a brand new chain. Off with the clutch housing which I had suggested to Duc the day before to which he said, no-no-no-no-no, preferring the hammer. Replacing the damaged clutch plates, again off the shelf, securing the clutch cable fiting, 30 minutes later, voila. Good as new. After settling at a fair price this time, I set off once more. To the sweet sound of comfortably meshed chain and cogs, tight driving clutch plates, I confidently hit the Trail again.

Feeling sure I could make Cam Lo, the clouds gathered heavily. Sheltering from a tropical downpour, once at a friendly young mechanic's shop in Phu Qui, secondly 2 kilometers outside Ben Quan, the start of the DMZ, demilitarised zone, in a little corrugated shelter. Horizontal lightening and strong winds bend the trees, the road awash in seconds. The storm passes quickly despite it's intensity, the sky brightens, a full rainbow appears. The last time I saw such an arc was last year on the Isle of North Uist, Scotland when I returned to pay my respects to a recently departed dear friend. On the shore, at the bottom of his croft, triple rainbows appeared exactly from boundary to boundary. I felt Mike's presence again here in Viet Nam astride the rainbow.

With a full heart, on to Cam Lo where the government hotel said, no-no-no-no. This meant 12 kilometers more to Dong Ha. A good inexpensive room, hot shower, air conditioning, fried beef noodles and a couple of local Huda beers saw the end to an eventful day. Khe Sanh is 65 kilometers due west.

Project Pineapple Nearly Squashed at Outset

Across the bridge at Cam Thuy which spans a wide river flowing under tall karst hills with gypsies in their boats anchored on its banks, once more I am a solo rider. Hoping to make the coast for a day's relaxation, dark sets in. Nong Cong is not exactly on the tourist trail but stopping there was a necessity. With only one expensive hotel which I didn't want to use, I asked around and was taken to a lodgings which ordinary folks used. Already evening, several of the men who hustled around to view the foreign spectacle had been drinking. Eventually I bunk down only to find my wallet 'mising'. I call to Dat in Hanoi who tells the manager about Project Pineapple. After quite a fuss, Hanh, the school teacher arranges everything and tells me to stay at home and wait till the morning. Which comes. As I pack my stuff I notice the wallet in a plastic bag of plastic utensils. Eh? How did it get there? Still not sure if I put it there absent mindedly or one of the 'visitors' who had sat nearby had returned it, problem solved. The entire little community had batched together to support me saying Vietnamese were good people and would not allow me to pay for the room. That's Nong Cong for you. Thanks guys. Project Pineapple continued, unsquashed, to the beach for a day's rest. Seafood and sleep after months of continuous preparation. Slow walks along the beach exchanging with the cockle gatherers and photographing the friendly kids. Phew, that was good. And it's not in Lonely Planet. Ha, ha. Onwards, refreshed, down the Trail

Dundee Jazz Singer Supports Project Pineapple

Recently, Alison Burns from my home town of Dundee in Scotland, played a jazz concert in the Thai Clutural Center in Bangkok. I spoke to her later and discoverded that she used to live just along the road from me. As a fellow Dundonian, Alison has kindly added her support to Project Pineapple.

"Good luck with the project awareness. Will keep up to date on your progress.

Best of luck
Alison
(Jazz)"

March 24, 2009 11:50 AM

See picture below

Cam Thuy, Start of Ho Chi Minh Trail

Leaving the hotel in Hanoi which had been our base for five days, we set out as a small group on motorbikes to Bach Mai Hospital. It is well known in Vietnamese history regarding colonial wars and has a large mural memorial. For Project Pineapple it is significant as Handicap International, the agency for whom I worked in 2003 in Laos and thus became so poignantly aware of the Cluster Bomb issue, fincanced a limb fitting department for the victims of UXO accidents.

Lighting three incense sticks and placing them in front of the mural to recognise the endurance of the women and children, men also of course, we rode on to the Ho Chi Minh Trail Museum. Two hours spent viewing the remarkable pictures portraying the feat of constructing the multi-trail and displayed items including a casing containing cluster bombs we were warmly hosted by the caretaker who was aware of the project.

'Bubblegum' had to return home. Thanks for joining and looking after us so well.

We rode away from the noisy, jostling outskirts of Hanoi and south where we found a traditional Big House guest house where we ate and slept. Even in this rural spot the local cafe served fresh mango yoghurt shakes and eye widening coffee in the morning.

Continuing a bit further south we came to Cam Thuy (Cum Twee), the start of the Hi Chi Minh Trail. Stopping for lunch, Dat found the Minsk mechanic who had one spare indicator lens which was somehow missing. Eating together for the last time, it was time to part.

Thanks Hana for the introduction all your friends in Hanoi. Thanks Dat for the Minsk and publicity support. Thanks Dom for believing in the project and getting yourself and your cameras over here. Ben, big thanks for giving such quiet, big heart support. Miss you all. But see some of you again soon.

Loaded up and ready to roll we rode to the junction. They headed north back to Hanoi. I, on my Minsk, headed south on the Ho Chi Minh Trail.

Heading South on the Trail

To accommadate our Vietnamese friends and supporters we are departing Hanoi this morning, Saturday 21st March. Meeting at Bach Mai hospital with a limb fitting center set up and handed over by Handicap International some years ago. On to the Ho Chi Minh Trail Museum. Then the Trail itself.

Heavenly Hana, from Aberdeen to Hanoi

Monday, 16th March, I finally roll into Hanoi City. The Vietnam guide book I found on the top a wardrobe in Xam Nua, Laos, with written on the cover, 'Good luck.....you'll need it' seems to have done the trick. It's maps lead my directly to the door of the Little Hanoi Hotel in Hang Ga street in the old quarter. This is where Dominque, a photojournalist from UK, was booked in for next day. We were put in touch by Jack working in the Frontline Club in London after a visit to it's AGM last year. She did a great job in getting sponsoship funding to get over here to cover the Cluster Bomb issue.

Parked the bike nearby and went to find Cuong Motorbike repair shop. Phuc, his brother, said to bring the bike along and it would be ready next day. Picking up the Minsk, 200 meters along Hang Bo Street, the clutch cable broke. Yep, Andy in Luang Prabang said sure the bike would make my Hanoi destination. It did, plus 200 meters. Had that cable given way up in them there Lao mountains, ahhhgggg. Pushing the bike the last few hundred meters I couldn't thank the owner of that guide book enough for their good luck wishes.

Later in the evening I met 'Hana', Hoa Anh Dao, and her friend, another Cuong. Hana I met in the snowdrifts of Aberdeen last year in a hostel, never seen snow before. Learning she came from Hanoi I quickly explained the project and to my amazement her Vietnamese friends were Minsk bikers and could help with everything. She is Media Marketing. And they have done. It is fantastic, opening the doors to alternative bike servicing and the local media. We worked out the project name together. Thanks Hana.

Visiting another Minsk repair shop, Trong's, Hana had arranged for other friends to meet there, having lunch in a 'Quan Bia', beer restaurant, with draught Hanoi beer, stir fried dog and pork shank, local clear corn liquor shots. Along came Dat, short name, short man, big heart, big contact. Dat is a Minsk biker having toured Vietnam extensively and reporter for a group of 4 magazines. Visit his ride report and meet the man. http://www.advrider.com/forums/showthread.php?t=418961

Ben from Australia got in touch after meeting someone in a coffee shop in Bangkok. He came specially to Hanoi to be part of the ride. What a guy. He's an old bike racing hand with thirty two trophies to his name and a commitment to ridding the world of the Cluster Bombs. He emailed Steve, an Oz poiltician, to tell him about the project. Welcome to Project Pineapple, Ben.

A fellow guest at the Hotel, Aussie Luke, a computer engineer, got hold of my hand drawn logo and put some smart touches to it maintaining the initial concept. Thanks Luke, great job.

My Minsk sorted by first fix: fork seals, boots, chain guard, levers, cables, wheel bearings, brake light switches, air filter. Dat took us to Trong's for second fix: rubber seal for carb to filter, refit foot brake, adust speedo dial, grab spare headlight bulb and spark plug. Set.

Down to Lao Emabassy to submit visa application as returning to Vientiane Cluster Convention early April, Cambodia Embassy for eventual tour of NE Cambodia, end of Ho Chi Minh trail. Ha Trang, the street of bag and zip repair, saw my saddle bags clips and rucksack sorted.

19th March, 'official' start of Project Pineapple, saw a meeting in an Hang Trong Street coffee lounge with Dat's and Hana's friends who were interested in helping with the project's planning of places to visit around Hanoi and the route south.

It was decided to postpone the actual riding departure until the weekend when the local guys and gals have free time for a couple of days to visit relevent sites and start on the road of the Ho Chi Minh trail.

Laos ratifies cluster bomb ban treaty

New York, 18 March 2009 – The Lao people’s democratic republic, the country most affected by cluster bombs in the world today ratified the treaty banning the deadly munitions and requiring their clearance. The ratification took place at a special event at the United Nations in New York on the Convention on Cluster Munitions attended by 75 countries.

For full story please view:

http://en.handicapinternational.be/Laos-ratifies-cluster-bomb-ban-treaty_a581.html?PHPSESSID=719b0d8c023a117d605114e15e759a5d

Unplanned side trips

Onwards and eastwards to Xam Nua my next destination. With no clear sign to Xam Nua at Muang Kham I took what seemed to be the main road but ended up at the Vietnam border at Nam Kan. Retreading the peaceful 80kms to Muang Kham, the Xam Nua road was signed from that side. On to Nam Neun to overnight with three Chinese touring on small step-through bikes. Next day finally made Xam Nua. Checked in and up to the so slow internet where old pal Canadian Jason was battling with his patience. A surprise encounter, we enthologised part way through a bottle of Johnny Black. Jo from Cope was in town too on a field visit. Xam Nua is in the middle of the Pathet Lao war zone so many UXOs and limbs to be replaced.

Time was pressing for Hanoi deadline so headed along highway 6A to Pahang, a bone rattling, bike shakin' unpaved 80kms, very beautiful, no tourists. Having asked in Vientiane and along the way about this border crossing I was told it was possible. On arrival I was told for Lao and Vietnam people. With only about 35 kms to Moc Chau and a paved road I was obliged to rattle back down the 80 kms bumping into Jo from Cope again, forks leaking and carb looking wet, to Vieng Xai, a Pathet Lao stronghold in the karst terrain. This is a beautiful lakeside town where I took a stilted guest house overhanging the water. So cold at that altitude, no shower that night.

Next day, 15th March, and down the official crossing at Na Meo where an impressive imperial customs edifice is in stark contrast to the endless trail of bamboo and wooden structures seen along these parts. After several checks of paperwork, bags and bike, a sniffer dog paying much attention but no bonus for him that day. Finally into Viet Nam. Bamboo is big business in that neck of the woods with poles and house siding being woven in roadside villages all the way down to the valley floor. Unexpectedly finding myself on a major highway, it looked like Hanoi was in sight. But once off the highway it was a battle of endless trucks and buses with echoing horns, pushy CRVs and a multitude of motorbikes jostling for position. After many pitstops as nearing dark, eventually found a very kind family run guest house in Ha Dong, 20 kms out of Hanoi. Hot water, big bed, internet down the road.

Plain of Jars, another war another death trap

On my way at last towards Hanoi. But first the northern mountains of Laos must be traversed. Touching down in Phonsavan, the Plain of Jars is a must to visit. In 1989, during my first trip to Laos, the plain was still a difficult and dangerous place to get to. The Pathet Lao, a nationalist communist party, was still very active at that time. The US military bombed this historic archaeological site too.

The jars are generally regarded as funerary containers dating from around 500BC to 500AD

Getting the Minsk from Bangkok to my 'local' mechanic in Luang Prabang, Laos

Mercedes and BMW, Honda and Toyota service centres are just round the corner, right? Getting to my local Minsk motorbike service centre in Luang Prabang took five days.

Trained up overnight on 4th March to Nong Khai, northern Thailand with bike in parcel wagon. Arrival was delayed several hours due to the new rail link between Thailand and Laos being opened by Princess Maha Chakri Sirindhorn on the 5th March.

Part of he Royal train was shunted forward to allow passengers and goods to be unloaded, including my Minsk. There I was asking politely the best way to navigate the rail track to the platform with senior officers in ceremomial white uniforms advising the way across the track next to the red carpet, temporarily parking there while I went back to retrieve the saddle bags. Loaded up and ready to go, I walked the bike to the end of the platform, many official eyes and bystanders observing the spectacle.

Next day, paperwork complete, a ride across the Friendship Bridge to Vientiane bumping into MAG near their well appointed colonial riverside office. Flying visits to Cope, BAC and Phoenix Clearance provided a good set up for the forthcoming 'official' start on 19th March from Hanoi.

An early morning start next day saw the Minsk being hoisted by rope, driver and three or four helpers, to the roof rack on the orange bus, Project Pineapple colour. Spectacular scenary made the eleven hour journey whizz by. A day of rest, Sunday, allowed me to sweat out some of the fever I brought from Bangkok. Monday saw German Andy and chief mechanic Lao Joe sort out what they could to get the bike roadworthy for the Hanoi leg. Sam welded up a pair of racks for the saddle bags.

Next day, 10th March I was in the saddle heading to the wild, wild east.